Lucy, My Love
by JuniperHen
Summary: Voldemort was a powerful dark wizard who was undeniably evil for what appears to be no reason. But what if there was a backstory to this? Tom Riddle meets Lucy Hazel, a girl who would change his life dramatically.
1. Prologue: 1938

"I can make things move without touching them. I can make animals do what I want them to do, without training them. I can make bad things happen to people who annoy me. I can make them hurt if I want to." Tom Riddle looked down a little. "I can't like them, either."

Dumbledore's eyebrow raised slightly. "What do you mean by that?"

"I can tolerate others, and I can appreciate something they've done. I just can't…like them."

"And this is why you have no friends?"

"Not really. I just prefer to be alone."

Dumbledore looked at him strangely for a moment, then continued explaining to him about Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 1: September 1938

The ride to Hogwarts had been just as he wanted it to be, lonely. It was just him, alone in the compartment of the train, gazing out through the open window. Tom was now waiting to get sorted, standing as far away from the front of the room as possible, away from the anxious group of children and into a corner, casually blowing out the floating candles. So what if there was magic? It wasn't as fascinating to him as it was to the rest of the first years, so he didn't bother attempting to interact with them. He didn't need friends. Finally, he was called up to be sorted, and he walked up the steps and sat down on the small stool in the center of the room. The hat was placed upon his head and immediately started speaking.

"So, you like to be alone, hmm? And you have no friends? Can't _appreciate_ them?"

Tom shuddered a little in his seat. It was something he never understood. He waited another few seconds, then the Sorting Hat finally made up its mind.

"Slytherin!"

And with that, the sorting continued. Tom made his way to the Slytherin table, slightly confused; the hat seemed so certain. He sat down in the far corner and idly watched the rest of the sorting. The group of anxious first years slowly faded into one student. She, unlike the others, wasn't nervously fidgeting. This student was waiting around with the same boredom as Tom had been.

"Lucille Hazel!"

The last student boldly strode up the steps and sat down in front of everyone, careless as the Sorting Hat was placed over her wavy golden hair. This girl caught Tom's eye. Her skin had a sickly pale color and he could make out the bloodshot in her eyes from across the room. The hat began muttering things that Tom couldn't hear and spent several seconds debating which house to put her in. Now Tom could see her looking at him. She had noticed him staring at her, it seemed.

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed.

A small smile crept over the girl's face as she approached the Slytherin table and sat next to Tom.

"Hi! My name is Lucy Hazel," she said, extending her arm to him. "I saw you looking at me, by the way."

"I wasn't trying to hide it. My name is Tom," he said, cautiously shaking her hand.

"You don't trust a lot of people, do you?" she asked, giggling a little. "Or maybe it's just me. I know I don't look…great…"

"I'm not going to lie, you look a little unhealthy."

"I have leukemia. I got out of the hospital about two weeks ago."

"That's not why I was staring," Tom lied, pitying her slightly. "You look nice, that's all."

Lucy's skin assumed a more lively color as she blushed. "Thank you."

The sorting was finished and their dinner appeared on the tables. As Tom ate, he realized that he hadn't really lied at all. She _did_ look nice. Her hair was gorgeous and, once he could see them closer, he noticed that her eyes resembled the blue-green shade of an ocean filled with kelp. No, he definitely hadn't lied.


	3. Chapter 2: October 1938

Classes were going rather well for Tom. He had spent most of his life in the orphanage without magic, but he was a fast learner. Too fast, according to most. He was, however, terrible at defending himself. He constantly kept his distance from other people, which made him easy prey for bullies. Tom was now on the way to the infirmary because an older student had intentionally broken his arm. When he arrived into the room, it appeared to be empty. Then he noticed that one of the beds was occupied.

"Hi, Tom," a voice said. It was Lucy Hazel, looking up at him with concern. "Did somebody do that to your arm?"

"Um…yeah…someone older than me. It's not such a big deal, really." He sat on the bed next to her. "What happened to you?"

"My condition just needed to be checked on…"

"Your leukemia?"

"Yeah, that."

Tom looked around. The nurse was away. "Well…since we're waiting, let's talk. Tell me about your life. It sounds quite interesting."

And so they chatted for a while. Lucy talked mainly about her time at the muggle hospital, as this was where she had spent a lot of her life. Tom was becoming more curious about her, and he was able to relate to her because she also grew up with muggles.

"How did you figure out that you had leukemia?" Tom asked. "How old were you?"

"I was eight. I was in school, playing with my friends, then I just…passed out. I could hardly breathe." Tom nodded, trying not to let his lack of empathy show. He wanted to feel for this girl, but he didn't. He couldn't, and he still had no idea why. "I was rushed to the hospital. My doctor told me that I had chronic lymphocytic leukemia. Do you know what that means?"

"No, but it sounds pretty bad."

"My doctors couldn't cure it. I have a matter of years left, but that's it. After that, I'll be…well…you know."

"Dead. I get it. And…I'm sorry. That's terrible."

She smiled sorrowfully. "Yeah, it is. But enough about me. Where did you grow up?"

Tom sighed, the painful memories rising in his head. "A muggle orphanage. It's where I've lived my whole life."

"You're an orphan?"

"I was born there…and I hate that place." Tom sighed. "Sometimes I wish that my mother had never made it there. That I had just died with her."

Lucy shook her head. "Don't wish for death, Tom. You have a long, full life ahead of you full of opportunities. Not everyone can say that."

Tom shifted his position on the bed. Bolts of pain shot up his broken arm, making him wince. He looked up at Lucy with dark eyes. "That orphanage…I can't stand it. My life has been nothing so far. Nobody likes me, and I don't like anyone else. I still don't think my life is really worth anything."

Tom looked down at his feet, holding his injured arm with a grimace. He felt the weight on the bed shift. Lucy had sat down next to him.

"Every life is worth what it makes itself."

"Lucy-"

The creak of the door hinges interrupted him as the nurse entered.

"Well, there's one more of you than when I was last here." She walked over to Tom. "What happened to you, boy?"

"His arm is broken," Lucy explained.

"At least it's an easy thing to fix." The nurse gestured to Lucy. "Figuring out what's wrong with this one takes quite a bit of time."

Lucy nodded. She coughed a few times. Tom stared at her from the corner of his eye as he was being treated, then left hastily afterward. This girl was making his head do strange things.


	4. Chapter 3: August 1995

" _Never break your promise, Tom."_

" _I won't."_

 _The words seemed to take a physical form and encircle him. He could hear them ringing in his ears, the sound covering every inch of the room. He was in Hogwarts. Why was he in Hogwarts? Noise filled his mind. Someone was crying nearby, someone was screaming beside them, and they seemed to be getting closer._

 _Then they stopped. He could no longer move. He looked down and his skin was no longer pale as it used to be, but the color of a young boy's flesh. Suddenly, a silhouette formed in front of him._

" _Why did you break your promise?" it cried, its voice accusing and raspy._

 _He had no idea what he had done, or what he should be doing. The silhouette was sobbing, the shrill cries echoing through the halls. Who was it? What kind of promise did he break? Why was the world fading before his eyes?_

Lord Voldemort woke up in a cold sweat, breathing in rapid, shallow breaths as he arose to the midnight sky. He wiped the sweat from his forehead, looking around wildly in hopes that nobody saw him in his weakened state. The coast was clear. He took some deep breaths to slow his racing heart. The Dark Lord never dreamed, not since he had immortalized himself. Voldemort thought back to the dream. Though he tried not to let his past afflict him, he felt as if he had forgotten something that he had not meant to. Something important.


	5. Chapter 4: December 1938

Tom knew it was cruel, but he didn't have another way of dealing with this. He wanted to enjoy her company. He wanted it so much, to have a true relationship, to finally have a friend, but he couldn't have it no matter how much he tried. All he knew was how to hate people, so all of his social interactions came off rude. He did try, though, and Lucy was the only one who could see him trying, especially since she happened to be in all of his classes. Why did she have to be everywhere he went? He was trying not to hurt her, but he didn't feel bad when he did. He couldn't.

Soon, Christmas Eve was upon him, a holiday he never celebrated. Not until now.

"Merry Christmas, Tom," Lucy greeted in passing.  
"I don't celebrate Christmas," he replied bluntly.

"Hanukkah?"

"Nothing. The only thing to celebrate in December is the fact that you haven't fallen off the roof and broken your spine yet."

"Fallen off the roof? Tom! Since when have you been in danger of falling off the _roof_?"

"Since I began hiding up there." His voice dropped to a heavy whisper. "They can't reach me with the whip if they don't know where I am."

"What! Really?!"

"Hehe…no." He laughed halfheartedly. "It's not a whip. It's some kind of wooden plank-thing."

"Was that a joke?" Lucy asked hesitantly.

"No. At least it's not metal."

Lucy's eyes went wide.

"What? Where did you think I got all these awful bruises?"

"That's horrible!"

"Better than dying, I suppose."

"Still! And everyone's fine with this? Haven't you reported it to someone?"

"It's not such a big deal."

"It is. This has been happening your entire life, and NONE of it is okay." She had looked angry, then suddenly became solemn. "Why do they do it?"  
A silence followed. A long, long silence. Tom turned his back to Lucy and gazed at the snow outside.

"They do it because I'm different."

Before he knew it, Lucy had wrapped her arms around him tightly. She was hugging him. Tom froze, having no idea what to do. Should he push her off? Should he let her keep hugging him until she lets go? What should he be doing?!

"What's going on? Did I do something wrong?" Lucy asked, letting go and stepping back.

"No, it's…nobody has ever done that to me before. At least not that I can remember."

Lucy responded with another hug. "I'm so sorry. I can't believe that someone could treat another human with such cruelty for no good reason…I hope this gets sorted out soon. Tell me if there's anything I can do to help."

"There's nothing you can do. I'll just live with it." He paused when he realized how rude his tone of voice had become. No. He didn't care anymore. "Goodbye."

Tom stormed off before she could speak again. How could she care so much for someone she hardly knew? Why did she have to be so kind all the time? How could she be so kind all the time? He didn't understand anything about her actions, and it was officially irritating.

But, at the same time, he felt conflicted. There was a constant tugging at his brain when he thought about her. He pondered on it so frequently that it gave him a headache. It wasn't a want, but a _need_. He somehow _needed_ to understand her and he _needed_ to return her actions. He just didn't know how…

God, his head hurt.

"Damn this," he muttered to himself, walking away. "Damn it all."


	6. Chapter 5: Christmas Eve 1938

"Why is it so cold in this stupid castle?" Tom muttered, edging closer to the fireplace in the deserted common room. He was so close it seemed the parchment in his lap might burst into flames any second, but he didn't mind. Information is disposable. People are disposable. Ideas, thoughts, memories, and desires are all disposable. If his homework caught fire, so be it. He'd never do it again.

The snow was falling heavily outside, covering the castle in a pale sheet of ice. Tom, though he was still a shivering mess inside Hogwarts, knew that it would have been much worse back at the orphanage; this was a particularly harsh winter, one that the thin walls of the muggle orphanage would not be able to protect him from, and nobody there would mind if he was frostbitten. In fact, they may have even preferred it. Strange people deserve to be punished, and he was the strangest of them all. He didn't fit into the muggle world, and he didn't fit in inside an enchanted castle. Paintings were moving, potions were brewed in cauldrons, certain people could turn into animals at will, ghosts were flying through walls, and yet he still stood out.

Tom broke from his thoughts once he heard a chirp and a soft tapping on the table beside him. A small, white owl was sitting beside him. He glanced at the clock, which showed it to be past 11:30. Who would send him an owl at this time of night? Even more peculiar, the owl had delivered a small, wrapped box and a letter addressed to him. A letter from Lucy.

 _Dear Tom Riddle,_

 _I hope this isn't your first Christmas present, but, if it is, I hope it's at least a memorable one. I'm not able to deliver this in person (I'm visiting my doctor in Germany), but I thought you deserve a present. You don't have to celebrate every year, but I thought you might want to try it out. Merry Christmas, Tom._

 _Sincerely, Lucy Hazel_

As nice as she was, the girl was wrong. He didn't deserve anything.

The paper surrounding the box was rather easy to remove. It was delicately placed with extreme care, making it super easy to rip off. Tearing the paper, for some odd reason, was immensely fun and enjoyable. This was Tom's favorite part of opening a present, he decided. Lifting the lid off the box, which was finally free of its paper prison, he finally peered inside.

It was a ruby necklace.

He sat for a moment in confusion. What did she expect him to do with it? He wasn't putting it on, that was for sure. He set it on the floor and rolled his eyes. Did she seriously expect him to wear a necklace? But then he was curious. He scrutinized it for a moment, then carefully stored it away in a drawer. It must be more than a necklace. It was from Lucy, after all. Lucille Hazel was much more than she appeared to be, and that was certain. Over the few months he had known her, he was able to observe the subtle similarities between them. She stayed away from the common crowd, she didn't ever quite fit in anywhere, and she had no friends in sight. If she was a person like him, he knew that nothing about her would be like it seemed.


	7. Chapter 6: February 1994

The water engulfed Harry's form as he dove into the lake, not knowing what to expect. It was surprisingly easy to see underwater now that he had the effects of the gillyweed, but it almost seemed too calm. Too quiet. Then a glimmering object caught his eye and he swam down to the bottom to examine it. It was a necklace buried in the sand. What was such a beautiful golden necklace doing at the bottom of the lake?

Something grabbed his leg, and he dropped the necklace back in the sand in surprise, forgetting about it entirely. All he could focus on now was the task. He had to save his friends…


End file.
